


We wish you a Happy Hogswatch

by TraditionalGaily



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Assassins' Guild, Did you get the Labyrinth reference?, Hogswatch, Teatime has issues so has Teppic Inigo is just an idiot, it serves Tiny Tim right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TraditionalGaily/pseuds/TraditionalGaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the night before Hogswatch, the jolly Hogswatch-spirit spreading in Ankh-Morpork (in the same way as a new exotic sexual disease spreads in the dockland) but somehow misses one room in the Guild of Assassins. Where the only three remaining students, unfortunately not invited elsewhere, are doomed to spend the evening together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We wish you a Happy Hogswatch

**Author's Note:**

> A little early for a Hogswatch story, I know.   
> But I’m so happy to write something with my three favourite Assassins (not counting Lord Vetinari)   
> And now let the babble cease and get on with it…  
> In this story there are two references hidden one to a movie and one quite obvious to a Christmassy book. Be the first one to spot them.

Picture snowflakes. Heavy glistening stars tumbling their uncertain way down, vanishing in the darkness of this mystical night, making the faintest noise in the multiverse. The crisp nothing of falling snow.   
It was snowing in Ankh-Morpork, the Discs largest city, covering the roofs with a glossy and almost kitschy white, but more importantly it was the night before Hogswatch, the last night of the year, leaving children tossing impatiently in their beds in case the Hogfather would leave some presents for them, and the mature inhabitants drinking each other under the various tables, chairs or bunk beds. All in all a jolly night.   
One window is still lit in Ankh-Morpork’s Guild of Assassins*.   
Three young men are sitting in the room, all dressed in black.   
Let’s examine them up close.

“Just one last time, alright”  
A long outdrawn breath of Inigo*** indicated that he was not at all pleased with the interruption caused by one of his colleagues Pteppicymon XXVIII better known as Teppic.   
“Yes, Teppic?” Teatime asked patiently without changing his firm facial expression, eyes affixed to his opponent Inigo. Well, at least his still good eye, the one made of glass was as unreadable and pokerfaced as always****.   
“This whole “Hogswatch” thing. What is it all about?”  
“Dagger number six blackened mhm, mhm wooden handle.”  
“No” Teatime threw a short knife onto the pile of sharp objects in front of him.   
“I understand”, Teppic continued slightly offended by his colleague’s ongoing play, „it has something to do with the beginning of a new year of some sort, presents for children indicating some kind of archaically festive day, a large meal, and relatives visiting…”  
“Omnian ceremonial dagger, only to be used by a novice doing a handstand on a bridge, better known as “Om’s wrath” number six.”  
Inigo grinned broadly as he revealed the knife from behind his back. “Number seven mhm, mhm I’m afraid.”  
Teatime clicked his tongue in a disappointed way before addressing Teppic again. “You were saying?”  
“I mean…why a pig?”  
“People tend to worship what keeps their economy going.” Teatime explained while searching his clothes for another knife, “Your people in Djelibeybi worship the river “Djel” for his fertileness, in the Sto Plains they worship, well there is nothing apart from cabbage in this area that could be worshiped, and an economy based on pigs tends to worship hogs. Got one.” The last part indicated that the game with Inigo could proceed.   
“So let me conclude” Teppic continued, “Hogswatch is a festive day…”   
“Dwarfish coal-knife mhm, mhm number eight.”  
“No”  
”…celebrating not only the New Year but economies hoggish foundations…”  
Inigo met Teatime’s triumphant stare as he let it slip on the table “Serrated bread-knife number three”  
“…combined with the greeting of spring…”  
“Looks more like a number four to me” Inigo complaint eying the knife up close.   
“…symbolised by a fat men flying through the air on a sleigh pulled by some hogs…”  
“Well, if you examine every third notch you spot…”  
“I see mhm, mhm, now I see it. Ready by the way.”  
“…which should resemble the perpetual shining sun. A skiff, that I would understand, but…”  
“It’s just another solar festival, alright?” Teatime hesitated. He closed his eyes, raised his head and sniffed. “Bayonet type “klatchian widowmaker” number 367.”  
Inigo tossed it furiously in the direction of all the other knifes Teatime had guessed right. They were occupying a considerable large area of the table. “It is just not possible, that you could have smelled that.”

Teatime leaned back in his chair sipping his tea triumphantly.  
“Wait a minute” Inigo hesitated, “I counted 32 knives, although at the beginning you stated you were only carrying 29.”  
Teatime sniggered. “There is always enough room for three spare “last” ones.  
“At least”, Teppic went on after his two colleagues had all the sharp objects tucked away to the hidden places they usually occupy, “if I want to know why the sun isn’t coming up, I just go up and ask my father. That’s one of the little advantages of descending from a solar deity******  
Inigo and Teatime exchanged meaningful glances unnoticed by Teppic who appeared to be daydreaming of his sandy home.   
“Speaking of relatives” he interrupted Inigo from eating a tea biscuit, “how come you two are here, if this is such an important night for mingling with your next of kin?”  
Inigo paused sighing while Teatime continued drowning tea biscuits in his cup.   
“I decided on mhm, mhm spending this Hogswatch on my own, disregarding an old tradition to indicate maturity.”   
“Your family didn’t invite you, did they, or should I say they didn’t invite you ‘mhm, mhm’?” Teatime chuckled, Inigo cursed under his breath.   
“What about your family?” Teppic asked innocently in a desperate attempt to change the subject.   
Inigo cast him a knowing and bemused glance accompanied by a hushed snigger. This evening could turn out to be much less of a nuisance than expected.   
“Oh”, Teatime retorted getting quite comfortable in his wing chair, “I always considered the idea of spending such a mystical night out in the cold hunched between the gravestones over your ancestor somewhat tragic.”  
“I’m sorry”, Teppic whispered blushing and staring at his toast in embarrassment, “I…I didn’t know they were…I didn’t mean to…”  
“That’s why I’m so grateful their bodies were hastily buried in the woods, anonymously.” Teatime laughed hysterically.   
Teppic did not dare to lift his blushing head, not even as Inigo and Teatime started throwing biscuits in one’s another’s cups, behaving like rivalling adolescents everywhere in the universe.   
“That’s not fair”, Inigo’s accusing voice emerged from under the napkin, as he wiped his face, “we agreed on one cookie a throw.”  
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Teatime retorted smiling.   
“Ten?” Inigo asked possibly more dramatically than necessary.   
“Sorry”  
“Stacked on top of each other.”  
“Still, to not only your, but my amazement as well I have to point out, that they all arrived in your cup still stacked on top of another.”

Inigo threw away the damp cloth and sighed stretching in the creaking leather-covered chair.   
“Do you remember your first time mhm, mhm?”  
Both Teatime and Inigo head’s spun around at the sound of Teppic choking on his tea.   
“No…not quite I have to admit…” Teatime answered looking up at the ceiling reflectively. “Perhaps it was in the barn in…no I was already seventeen back then…or up at the roof in Quirm with the young handsome lady who…no, actually I didn’t finish it properly…yes, I think it was somewhere in the Ramtop Mountains, you know one of this little villages…”  
“I bet it was somewhere in a dirty dark alley mhm, mhm…you know, one old little lady…”  
“Still I was quite enjoying myself back then”, Teatime interrupted, “and I didn’t do it in an alley, it was in the middle of a street…well, _the_ street, the only one running between the few cottages…”  
Once again their attention was drawn to Teppic who coughed horribly and tried to dry his toast in a futile attempt with a soaked napkin.   
“Really, I don’t quite understand why you make such a big deal out of it”, Teatime continued between some forceful slaps he gave Teppic to stop him from chocking, “I felt an urge to, so I did it. Just like this, it didn’t even take me long.”  
“You have neither self-respect mhm, mhm nor class…” Inigo took away the teapot Teppic had knocked over and replaced it with another one.   
Finally Teppic had found his voice again and removed the damp tablecloth and the soaked tea biscuits. “You did…it…in the middle of the street…didn’t you…I mean everyone could have…”

Teatime leaned over to Teppic and gave him his usual cheerful but unpleasant smile, which was always only half as bad to look at compared to his unbalanced stare. “So?”  
One eye like the murky grey water of the sea, Teppic thought to himself, the kind of water that was inhabited by all kinds of beastly creatures lingering, waiting to arise just in time for an unwary prey, the other one like a small black sun, radiating…This was what the end of a supernova must look like, Teppic concluded, a black hole, waiting, ready to suck in anything that would be unfortunate enough to cross it’s way. After all this time he had spent thinking about which eye the term “his good eye” was referring to in Teatime’s case he was still undecided…  
“I remember my first time quite well mhm, mhm.”  
Teppic’s until now tensed shoulders sagged a bit with relieve as Teatime’s attention was distracted by Inigo.   
“A lawyer mhm, mhm. I killed him using one of his ornate letter openers. Mhm, mhm. Unfortunately he turned into a zombie afterwards, so I got sued anyway mhm, mhm.”  
“Oh, that’s what you…”

Slowly both Teatime’s and Inigo’s heads turned to Teppic who was blushing and seemed to shrink with every minute. “Well, I thought, you two were…” he tried to defend himself his voice trailing off and transmuting into an embarrassed shriek.   
During their conversation Teatime had taken his glass eye out and had started polishing it.

“What is it?” Inigo asked curiously.   
“It’s a crystal ball”, he retorted while moving his hand in a complicate matter while still balancing the small glass ball on top.   
“That’s mhm, mhm not what I’ve meant. I was referring to its peculiar pattern mhm, mhm the silver streak running through the translucent swirls.”  
“Oh, that…” Teatime was looking at it fondly, while rubbing it with a soft cloth, “just one of my as the superiors would say “mad ideas”. Watch this…”   
Like a boy, Teppic thought to himself, just the way of pride glistening in his eyes (well, eye), yet somehow spoiled by the embarrassment he feels due to his pride.   
Both Inigo and Teppic watched Teatime as he forced the glass back into his eye socket wrong side first. Inigo watched with fascination, Teppic disgusted by the sound it made as he inserted it roughly.   
“Well?” he asked unbridled elation vibrating in his voice.   
They both looked closer. Seen from this side it didn’t seem like a swirly grey glass bead at all, there was a translucent body with a small shiny metallic plaque in its centre. Not metal, more like…

“A mirror”, Teppic astonishment seemed to increase Teatime’s delight, “you put a small mirror into the glass to…”  
“Yes, please go on…” Teatime got more and more impatient with excitement.

Inigo, who was an average assassin considering his inhumations but at the same time had all the imaginativeness of a sunflower seed, let his gaze travel back and forth between uncertain Teppic and expectant Teatime.   
“You could use…if you just hold a hand mirror in the right angle, you could…bundle rays of sunlight to…blind your opponent.”  
Teatime slapped Teppic’s shoulder encouragingly and for Teppic’s taste a bit too forcefully, while he poured some more tea into his cup.   
“I still seem mhm, mhm not to be with you.” Inigo tried to reconquer his part in their conversation.   
“You see” Teatime showed him the eye removing it with a disturbing ‘pop’, “It’s just like this mirrors they used in Ephebe to destroy the Tsortian armada.”   
“Once placed in the correct angle it allows you to bundle the sunrays, blinding your opponents or setting fire to their ships.” Teppic concluded.   
“Or someone’s blouse.” Teatime added viscously grinning.   
Both Teppic’s and Inigo’s mouths formed “How…” but thought better of it and closed it again.

The antique’s long case clock’s gentle chimes indicated that it had turned midnight.   
“Well, that sums it up for this year” Teppic raised his cup and added in a louder a voice “Happy Hogswatch.”  
And a young voice radiating innocence added from down in the street: “And may the gods bless us. EveryAAAAUGH”  
Teatime closed the window again and tried to rub some feeling back into his hands that had only seconds ago possessed the quite massive snowball that had hit the poor invalid boy on the head.   
Inigo sniggered, Teppic shook his head.   
Teatime sighed: “Happy New Year, you tossers.”

 

*Lord Vetinari present Tyrant of Ankh-Morpork had come to the conclusion that if you could not prevent crime, you could at least legalize it and get it damn well organised. For every need** there was a guild defending their exclusive rights against non-guild-members with not only piercing but shooting arguments as well. At least Lord Vetinaris intentions succeeded. Which proofs once again that nothing stays enjoyable if you have to pay taxes for it.   
**or desire in case of the Guild of Seamstresses  
***first and probably only assassin of Ankh-Morpork’s guild of Assassins who took looking average to a new level that made him look quite suspicious  
****Quite a few individuals who had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Teatime***** had reacted to his smiling face with the pendular gaze, called “Teatime glance” mockingly by his colleagues. It started with one glimpse at the distorted eye a polite travel to the other one where it met a pin-sized pupil which forced the glimpse to reconsider matters and trail back to the one made of glass from where the whole thing would repeat itself over and over again.   
***** The one face to face, not the one wondering where the sharp object buried in the chest had suddenly appeared from.   
******Teppic’s father Pteppicymon XXVII, part-time king******* of Djelibeybi had sent his son to the Assassins Guild of Ankh-Morpork to ensure the continuity of the dynasty, at least in financial issues. The kingdom separated two powerful empires which were both satisfied with some kind of primitive and archaic buffer zone between them. Teppic had grown up believing in simple things like the world being cruel, but a place that could be improved, his ascendants being of divine blood and water to be crystal clear and blue, but most of the time somewhere deep in the ground. The years in Ankh-Morpork did not have any impact on his philosophy of life. Well, apart from the water…  
*******One part king, one part sun-god


End file.
